Mixed Tape
by angelinexo
Summary: He was Nate Black for crying out loud. Business man and main lyricist of uber popular, pop sensation, Connect 3. But now, filled with all these emotions that were just dying to be put to words and music, Nate blanked. He couldn't think of a single word.


**This is actually for the joint acct (TheFreakyMentalSociety), but I wanted to see if I'd get some more feedback if I posted it on my individual acct, like Vale did :) Ada challeneged me to write a one-shot to the song, Mixed Tape by Jack's Mannequin. **

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He crumpled up another sheet of paper, throwing it into the already overflowing trash can next to his desk. He looked out the hotel window and was surprised to see the sun peeking out over the horizon. He glanced at the Rolex on his wrist, confirming that it was indeed the next day.

He went into the bathroom to wash his face. This was the third time this week he had pulled an all-night-er trying to write a damn song.

He punched a pillow in frustration.

He was _Nate Black _for crying out loud. Business man and main lyricist of uber popular, pop sensation, Connect 3.

But now, filled with all these emotions that were just dying to be put to words and music, Nate blanked. He couldn't think of a single word to start explaining how he felt.

And as all types of writers are aware of, writer's block sucks.

Nate fought the urge to scream out loud. He knew exactly _how_ he felt (pissed beyond control and even more hurt), but he just couldn't get those feelings translated onto paper.

He didn't even have to worry about the music for now. Shane and Jason said that they'd take care of that later. They _were_ the ones to tell him to try and let out all his emotions in a song in the first place.

That had been two weeks ago, after a month of watching Nate mope around.

He grabbed his iPod and plugged in the earphones into his ears, hoping to gain some inspiration from listening to some of his favorite artists, like Elvis Costello and the Jonas Brothers (though he'd never admit to the latter).

Plopping down onto his never-slept-in bed, he closed his eyes, letting his mind drift back to that horrible, horrible night.

_Nate ran up the stairs to his room, excited to be back at home after a four month tour. He threw his bags onto the floor, next to his immaculately organized closet. Then he noticed something that hadn't been there when he left four months ago._

_Sitting innocently in the middle of his perfectly made bed, sat a simple white envelope, his name written on the front in the all-so-familiar curly scrawl._

_A grin grew on Nate's face as he carefully opened the envelope. She was always leaving him sweet little reminders, and he had missed them, and her, while he had been away on tour._

_As he read the letter, however, his grin fell as his brows furrowed in confusion. By the end of the letter,_ _tears were slipping down his cheeks. After rereading the letter two more times, he ripped it up, throwing the little pieces around his room. Even still, her words remained burned into his mind._

_"Dearest Nate,_

_"As cliche as it sounds, by the time you read this, I'll be gone. Not geographically, of course, I love it here too much to move. But emotionally, I won't be here for you anymore. I don't know if that made much sense, but what I'm trying to say is that I can't do this anymore. 'This' being 'us.' _

_"I'm breaking up with you. _

_"I know this is a horrible way to go about doing this, but I honestly can not think of another way. It's just so hard to get in touch with you. _

_"But don't think that's the only reason why I'm doing what I'm doing. It's only part of the reason._

_"This may be heard to hear, but I've found someone else. He makes me happy, and I hope you don't hate me for this._

_"I'll always love you, Nate Black. But this is for the best. I'm sorry._

_"Goodbye, Nate._

_xoxoxo"_

Despite being in his hometown for over a week, he didn't go looking for her. Not to plead for her forgiveness, or even to yell at her betrayal. Just the thought of seeing her with another guy was too much.

A tear rolled down his cheek. Even now, almost two months later, it still hurt. It still made him angry.

As the song 'Don't Breathe' by Brad Paisley came on, he felt as if he were back at that night. Why couldn't he write something like this song? Something that speaks to the soul.

As another song that 'spoke' to him came on ('Lonely for Her' by Jack's Mannequin), he was hit by an idea.

He ran back to his desk and started scribbling into his notebook. As he flipped open his laptop he let his thoughts wander back to _her_.

She was always a night owl, so she'd probably still be sleeping. There was a pang in his heart as he pictured her sleeping form. She always looked so angelic when she was sleeping...

Clicking the button on his laptop with a satisfied smile on his face, Nate finally felt a sense of peace within himself.

**xoxoxo**

_One week later..._

She ran down the steps to the front door. Her brows furrowed as she realized nobody was there. She almost shut the door before the reflection of a CD case caught her eye, sitting patiently on her doorstep.

Suspicious, she opened it to find a CD with the words 'Mixed Tape' on it in permanent marker, the handwriting as familiar as her own. In the sleeve was a folded sheet of notebook paper.

She read,

_I made this mixed tape to let you know how I feel. It's like I wrote every note, that's how well they describe how I'm feeling right now._

_You hurt me so much, I couldn't even write a song about it. _

_Don't worry, I don't hate you. I just can't. I hope you're happy, whoever you may be with._

_I love you._

_Goodbye._

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**Short, and I'm not so sure how I feel about it, so let me know what YOU think. :)**

**xoxoxo**


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